Who died and made you Queen?
by Naseka
Summary: Clarisse is upset about Rupert's sudden death and must pretend she's fine with it, but is she really? ONESHOT. R & R.


Purpose: There aren't enough Rupert stories (actually there are, I just want there to be more – hint, hint).

Also: I thought of a line I wanted to use and built a story up around it.

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Queen Clarisse stood as elegantly as ever in the ballroom, she was composed, regal and overall emotionless despite the fact her husband had passed away last night.

The maids discovered him early in the morning, he was lying motionless in bedand not making a sound. It was Ariel who found him and tried to tap him awake, but when she felt how cold he was, she immediately called for the doctor. By 7am King Rupert was pronounced dead. The queen was first to be told, it was pinned on her as soon as she exited her suite. She took the news quite well on the outside, but on the inside it was a different story. The media was next to be informed and as a result, the phones started ringing off the hook. Clarisse decided to take a break and she headed out of her over-crowded office towards her private bathroom.

Joseph, having not heard the news, greeted her as she walked down the hall, "Good morning, madam. Might I interest you in a stroll around the gardens?"

"Not now Joseph."

"Is there anything you'd like me to do for you then, madam?"

"Yes, actually. You could go to the security room and do your job instead of hassling me."

"Should I send for some refreshments?"

"No!" She half yelled, "Just do your job for a change. And have someone clean this window, it's filthy."

Clarisse started walking very quickly to the door of her suite, but stopped and turned when she heard Joseph say in a humorous tone, "God…who died and made you queen?"

He didn't mean it in an offensive way, after all he didn't know the king was deceased.

"What did you just say to me?"

"It was a joke, madam."

She began closing the large gap between them as she bore her eyes into his, "Well I didn't think it was a very funny joke considering my husband passed away last night."

Angrily she turned away from him and hastened into her suite, she needed to cry - badly.

Her ladies maids were still in there making the bed and cleaning the floors, so she gave them all fake smiles and shut the bathroom door behind her.

Clarisse loved her bathroom, it was the only place in the world where she could be alone, no maids, no butlers, no nothing. Just herself.

As soon as she knew nobody was watching her, she threw her hand over her mouth and fell to the ground, allowing the tears to finally come out. For the first time in her adult life she sat hunched over on the floor with her legs crossed and water pouring out of her eyes and onto the floor. She was dishonouring everything her mother-in-law had taught her. She wasn't supposed to cry, because it showed weakness. She wasn't supposed to slouch, because it showed bad posture. And she certainly wasn't supposed to sit on the floor with her legs crossed, because it showed…well everything.

Clarisse found herself wrapping her arms around one of her knees and gently rocking back and forth. She dug her teeth into her arm to try and give herself physical pain to forget the emotional, but it didn't work very well. It's not easy to lose a husband, even one you're not in love with.

Making sure she was definitely alone, she quietly got up onto two feet and went over to the medicine cabinet. The only painkiller she had in there was Panadol, and they certainly wouldn't do anything for her in this situation.

"No," she whispered to herself, "You can cope with this on your own, you don't need drugs…of course you don't need drugs, you need your husband of 40 long years, he'd get you through this. Oh god I can't believe he's gone."

She lightly banged her head against the cabinet and cried some more, she'd never had to do anything by herself before, like getting over a death, he'd always been right beside her. She missed him already, his jokes, his smile, his ridiculous obsession with his shoulders. Clarisse smiled thinking about how he'd stand in front of the mirror and puff up his shoulder pads. He always complained that he looked scrawny, but Clarisse didn't notice. She liked him for who he was, not what was – or wasn't – on his shoulders. Leaning against the wall, she looked up at the ceiling and giggled at the joke he always used to tell whenever he got the chance. She never understood it, but she loved watching him laugh at himself every time he repeated it.

"PMS is another term for Mad Cow Disease," she mouthed, although still not understanding the joke. She'd thought about it often, but never understood it. Rupert always refused to tell her what it meant, saying she was a woman and should know, but she didn't. She honestly never 'got' the joke.

Thinking of the fun times she shared with Rupert made her feel calmer and less miserable about him passing on, but she knew she would have to re-enter palace life sooner or later, the maids were already knocking on the door wondering what she was doing in there.

"I'll be out in a minute, ladies," she announced in her most calm and controlled voice.

In the mirror she checked her makeup, it was smudged slightly, but would only take her a minute to fix up.

"Your majesty?"

"I'm coming."

Clarisse opened the door, refreshed and raring to continue the day. The bathroom session really helped her out, she decided to completely block out the fact that he was dead and concentrate on the good times that were had when he was alive. That would hold her over until bedtime.

She was about to go down to her office to start on the funeral plans when Joseph confronted her outside her suite, "Your majesty, if I may have a word."

Clarisse didn't directly look at him when he said it, her eyes were directed at the floor. She stood with arms tightly crossed, while he explained himself, "I apologize if what I said before hurt you in any way. You see, I wasn't aware of the king's passing, I hadn't been informed. My condolences to you."

Nodding slowly, she put her hand on his chest, "It's not your fault, you didn't know."

Joseph's entire body froze – she touched him! Never before had she touched him, he'd touched her, of course, but never the other way around. Every time he did touch her he felt a spark, he wondered what it meant. He'd always been physically attracted to her, he knew that much, but she was always out of reach. But now as he stood in the hall thinking, he thought, 'could I be attracted to her heart? Could this be…love?'

He regained his composure and looked around, she was nowhere to be seen. Exactly how long had he been standing there thinking about her? He looked at his watch – lunchtime.

Straightening up his tie, he started walking casually down the hall humming a tune, 'perhaps,' he thought, 'this is the beginning of a new romance.'

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Pointless story, no plot. Just something I wanted to write which I will probably like the next time I read it. R & R. 


End file.
